Page 14 of The Bound Mage
“I don’t want to impose.” Araya took a half-step back, not daring to meet Loren’s scowl. “I can eat in my room?—”
“Nonsense,” Eloria said, slicing through her protest with a wave of her hand. “That would be a very poor way to thank you for returning my brother to us. Please—stay.”
Araya hesitated, her mouth watering as the scent of roasted fish and fragrant herbs filled her nose. The meals here hadn’t beenbad, but after spending an afternoon talking and laughing withEl—no matter how much of a deception it had been—theidea of going back to her room to eat alone by the fire made her chest ache.
Araya eased into the empty seat beside Loren, careful not to brush against him. Fury radiated off him in waves, mirrored in the shadows that pooled at his feet, shifting restlessly. One reached for her—a single tendril brushing against the hem of her dress before it whipped back, torn away.
The golden-haired male was already filling another plate, piling it high with roasted fish and vegetables steeped in a fragrant sauce. He held it out to her, but before Araya could reach for it, Loren snatched it from his hands and set it in front of her himself.
The other male sighed, shaking his head, but his blue eyes sparkled as he caught Araya’s gaze. “Here I was, trying to make a good impression, and I’ve already made an enemy.” He laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Should’ve known better than to get between a male and his…plate.”
Loren’s head snapped up, the shadows hissing at his feet—but across the table, Thorne choked on a laugh, failing to muffle it with his fist. Nyra nudged him sharply with her elbow, but it was too late—the tension had cracked.
The strange male leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the polished wood. “I’m Galen,” he said. “Eloria’s mate—husband, as the humans would say. You know Loren, obviously.—and Nyra and Thorne. And I suppose you know Eloria now, too.”
“Eland I had a lovely afternoon,” Araya said, her smile brittle. “Until I found out about the title she conveniently forgot to mention.”
Galen shot Eloria a look, his brows lifting as he leaned slightly toward her, lips quirking in a crooked, indulgent smile. “El always means well,” he said dryly. “She just?—”
“She just sticks her nose where it doesn’t belong,” Loren cut in, setting his wineglass down a little too hard.
“Don’t take it out on Galen, Loren,” Eloria said. “Just eat.”
Loren bared his teeth, but no one seemed interested in fighting him. Around them, conversation resumed. The bright, lilting tones of common spoken with fae accents flowed through the air like a swift, glittering river, sweeping Araya along without ever truly including her.
With everyone’s attention elsewhere, she dared a tentative bite of the fish. The delicate flesh flaked easily against her tongue, a burst of briny citrus easing the tight knot in her chest. Araya let out a long breath, some of the tension she hadn’t realized she was holding finally draining from her limbs.
But beside her, Loren hadn’t moved. He didn’t join in the chatter, didn’t reach for his fork. The shadows pooled beneath the table, muttering darkly amongst themselves as if they shared his foul mood.
No one spoke to either of them until an elderly fae female stepped into the room, her silver hair braided into a crown and coiled neatly at the nape of her neck. She set a covered tray down in front of Loren, lifting the lid to reveal a dark, honey-glazed cake. A dish of stewed fruit in a fragrant syrup sat beside it, the scent of cinnamon and clove curling through the air.
“Welcome home, Your Highness,” the female said warmly. Then, to Araya’s surprise, she bent down and kissed Loren on the cheek, as if he were her own child. “I made your favorite.”
Nyra made an exaggerated noise of protest, setting down her fork with a theatrical clatter. “Excuse me! I’m the one leaving, Veria. Shouldn’t the cake be for me?”
Veria straightened, her bright eyes crinkling at the corners as she fixed Nyra with a mock-stern look. “I would never forget you, girl,” she said, tapping Nyra lightly on the shoulder as shepassed. “Your cakes are already on the ship, where you can’t eat them all before you go.”
Laughter rippled around the table, and even Loren snorted into his wine.
“Thank you, Veria,” he said, the tension draining from his shoulders as he smiled warmly at the older female—a startling transformation from a male who had been so full of anger just moments ago. Then, without another word, he picked up a serving spoon and passed a portion of the cake and fruit to Araya as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Thank you.” Araya stared down at the plate, the warm, spiced scent of the honey-glazed cake curling up to meet her.
Loren didn’t answer, but the tension between them seemed to ease slightly as he picked up his own fork, and for the first time since she had woken up here, Araya let herself believe she was just… eating dinner. She took a bite of the cake, and for a moment, she wasn’t a prisoner or a problem to be solved. She was just a guest at the table.
“You should ask Loren to show you Lumaria,” Eloria said suddenly, her bright voice cutting through the fragile peace Araya had found.
“Oh—” Araya laughed nervously, resisting the urge to glance over at Loren. She wanted to get to Lumaria, but not with him looming over her. “I’m sure Loren has better things to do?—”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Eloria laughed, ignoring the way the shadows at the edges of the room darkened. “Of course, Lumaria’s nothing like it was before—it was just never meant to hold this many people.”
Araya opened her mouth, not quite sure what to say in response, but Eloria breezed on.
“We do the best we can, of course,” she said. “Food is rationed, and we build everywhere we can—but every year more of us are lost. Now, with the New Dominion blockading the fewshipping routes we had left…” She trailed off, lifting her glass. “Time is running out. That’s why you coming here means so much to us.”
A chill crept down Araya’s spine. She set her goblet down carefully, her fingers tightening around the stem. “Excuse me?”
“Most humans see the fae as little more than a resource to bleed dry,” Eloria went on, still smiling. “But all of our reports suggest you lived rather comfortably, didn’t you? Especially compared to the other fae females in Aetheris. Is that because of the work you did for Jaxon Shaw?”
